


Spiced Honey

by Odderancy (dreamcatchers_and_chocolate)



Series: Undertale One-Shot Collections [5]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Danceswap - Alternate Universe, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 04:06:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16846804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamcatchers_and_chocolate/pseuds/Odderancy
Summary: So with Tumblr killing itself, it's time to start importing also my shorter works onto AO3This is a collection of Spicyhoney one-shots and drabbles, starting out with a Flowershop AU





	1. Flowershop AU

The shop was quiet as Edge watered the last of the flowers. Night was falling outside, and a few stars had already appeared on the sky. He exhaled as a breeze came in through the half-opened window, rustling the leaves of the plants filling up the room and glanced at the clock. It was closing time in less than half an hour, and then he could go home. Doomfanger purred as he stroked against Edge’s leg, demanding pets. With a smile, he put down the watering can on the counter, the metallic noise echoing through the shop, as he bowed down to scratch his cat behind the ears.

It had been a busy day, but everything was settling down now. Few were out to buy flower at this time of day. He picked up Doomfanger, and the cat buffed his head against his chest as he made his way behind the counter. A vase full of fresh carnations presided on it. Edge’s eyelights glazed over his shop; he’d watered the flowers, swept the floor, organized what had gotten out of place during the day. There didn’t seem to be anything else for him to do, no.

With a content sigh, he sat down on the wooden chair backed up against the wall. Doomfanger immediately curled up, pawing at his legs. Sometimes, Edge was quite grateful that he wasn’t a fleshy monster; he couldn’t imagine that the sharp claws would be very pleasant if you had skin for it to pierce. As it was, the claws only scratched lightly, hardly enough to be noteworthy. A car rushed by outside, illuminating the shop for the briefest second before it disappeared once again.

Leaning back, he considered closing early, but decided against it. There might just show up some last-minute customer. Plus, he quite enjoyed sitting alone in here, with only his cat and the flowers as company. As he absentmindedly petted Doomfanger, he fished up his phone from his pocket and opened the book he was currently reading – _The Ingredients of Love._ As much as he preferred real physical books, it was undeniably quite useful to always have an e-book available.

A smile played on his lips. After years of fighting with his father over the fact that he did _not_ wish to become a CEO or banker or whatever, things were falling into place. He and his brother were both disappointments, but their father seemed to have accepted that now. By some miracle they hadn’t had a falling out and were still seeing each other on family dinner in their father’s city manor every Sunday. Life was good.

Just as he turned yet another page, a smash made him jump. Edge was on his feet within seconds, and Doomfanger protested loudly as he was forced to jump. His claws stuck to Edge’s black jeans for a moment. Readying his magic, Edge twisted to look the way the sound had come from. He found himself staring into a pair of orange eyelights, and at a skeleton standing in the doorway. The pounding in his chest immediately slowed, and he relaxed, dispelling his magic.

The skeleton grimaced before he made his way up to the counter. Surprise filled his eyes as he looked at him. Breathing out slowly, Edge smiled pleasantly, ignoring the adrenaline still rushing through him. “How can I help you?”

“This is going to sound real weird, but, eh-” Raising an eyebrow, Edge waited patiently as the other rubbed his neck. “I want to tell someone _fuck you_ in flower. Can you help me? And, oh, sorry for scaring you before.”

“You didn’t scare me,” Edge huffed, crossing his arms. “Merely startled me. But yes. I can do that.”

The corner of the newcomer’s mouth tilted upwards. He held out his hand. “Great. Thanks. I’m Rus, by the way. If that’s relevant.”

“Edge.” He shook Rus’ hand. A grimace flashed over Rus’ face as he squeezed, and Edge couldn’t help but smirk. He studied the newcomer as Rus flexed his fingers. Slouch. An obnoxiously orange hoodie and cargo pants, and sneakers that seemed to have seen better days. But his bones were well-shaped and white; flawless and pretty, and the orange dusting his cheek was near enchanting. If he straightened his back, he’d likely be taller than Edge now when he was wearing combat boots instead of stilettos. He was beautiful. “May I ask _why_?”

Irritation. “Yeah.” Rus let out something akin to a growl, and he stuck his hands into his pockets. Edge could see them clench through the fabric. “Douchebag ex. He likes this flower stuff and I’m hoping he’ll get the gist that I’m not fucking interested in taking him back.”

Edge hummed, bowing down to pick up the book on flower language he always kept beneath the counter. While he knew a lot of it, it was always useful to have a guide. The edition was almost falling apart from having been used so much, and he quickly found the right pages. He grinned. “Better ensure it can’t go unnoticed then, hm?”

As he made his way around, back into the shop itself, Doomfanger jumped up on the counter. Just as he opened his mouth to warn Rus, the cat hissed, glaring at him. Rus took an automatic step back, eyes widening. He managed to keep himself from chuckling. “Careful, Doomfanger doesn’t like strangers.”

“No kidding.” Rus took another step back, without letting go of the cat with his eyes. Then he stopped. “Wait. Doomfanger?”

“It is a perfectly good name for a cat.” This conversation was old. Red had never fucking let him forget he thought it was a dumb name, and mostly everyone would comment on it.

Rus grinned, but there was hesitance in his expression. Almost anxiety. “I think you’d get along with my brother. He’s got a dachshund named Bumbersnoot.”

“Perhaps him and I should form a club together with my brother’s fiancé. The club for people who know to give their pets cool names.”

That startled a laugh out of Rus, who was still chuckling as he looked Edge over. Like most others, he would likely not peg Edge as a florist if he’d seen him on the street; leather jacket, torn jeans, combat boots and scars he’d gotten from getting into fights as a teen hardly gave that impression, he knew that. Most of the time it amused him. He grinned back.

Picking up a red garden anemone, he held it up toward Rus. “The red anemone symbolizes illness. Once people believed you’d get sick just by breathing in its scent.”

“Fricking perfect. What more have you got?” A gleeful smile appeared on his face, and Edge’s soul skipped a beat. Hell, he was good-looking, there was no denying that. Walking around the shop with Rus, he assembled a bouquet of St. John’s Worts, basil, fragrant coltsfoot and yellow carnations. Respectively, they meant animosity, hatred, _you’ll get what you deserve_ , and contempt. He wrapped the bouquet up with some privet, meaning _stay away_. The whole time, Rus came with clever comments.

When they went back to the counter for him to pay, Edge felt almost sorry. It was two minutes after closing time, and normally he’d be happy to go home, but his stomach sank with disappointment at the thought of ending this conversation.

When Rus fished up his wallet from his hoodie pocket, he opened it and grimaced. “Fuck.” Instinctively, Edge’s eyes narrowed as Rus grinned at him apologetically, his long, nimble fingers fiddling with the wallet. “So I forgot my card at home. But my brother’s not too far away, but I’m in a hurry, so would it’d be okay if- if he came and picked them up in a few minutes? Sorry…”

Oh, good. It wasn’t a ploy to get free flowers. Edge regarded him, saw how he slouched even more and hunched his shoulders. He made a quick decision. He picked up one of his business cards, handed it to Rus, and smirked. “How about this. You’ll go on a dinner with me – either as a date, or just as friends if you’re not looking – and I’ll _give_ you the flowers?”

Rus stared at him, his eyes growing wide. For a short moment, Edge held his breath, wondering if he’d made the right call. The other gaped. Then Rus’ mouth snapped shut and he smiled. Widely. Edge’s soul made a somersault. Beautiful.

“I’d love that,” he replied. He took the card. “A date it is.”

Edge nodded sharply, supressing the little laugh nearly bubbling out of him, and snatched one of the small cards he sold by the desk. Grabbing a pen, he quickly wrote, with lovely cursive letters, _Fuck off asshole, he’s taken_.

Leaning forward to see, Rus snorted loudly. “A lil’ early to get possessive, ain’t it?”

He only smiled at he stuck it into the bouquet.


	2. Danceswap Appears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From my own Tumblr-post: Okay so I imagine Danceswap Papyrus dancing like this (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cA0NtxZYKB4) and just. FUcking imagine classic Stretch meeting his counterpart and almost falling off his chair because his body hurts just watching the other dance how the fuck can someone who is him do that?!?!!!!!?! Meanwhile, Danceswap Pap is having the time of his life watching the other’s expression as he does cart-wheel after cart-wheel in place.
> 
> Meanwhile Blue is just in awe of his own counterpart (who dances like this - also a hip hop/tango mix) and demands he teaches him!!!!!!!! (And also side-eyes his brother because “Look you can be active now start exercising it’s good for both body and your anxiety.”)

The music flooding the area was great, he admitted that, but as Stretch lounged back in the park bench, watching his counterpart dance, he could feel his own arms ache at the mere thought of doing any such thing. Freestyle, as he’d been aptly named, winked at him before sticking his hands into his pockets, his legs moving unnaturally fast and then into a glide. 

How the  _frick-_

He couldn’t understand how that was possible. Not at all. How  _his body_  could- Oh. Now he was making cart-wheels. In the same spot. Fast as heck. The entire world seemed to spin as he watched. And he knew it was his imagination; they may be the same person, but they didn’t share experiences. Nonetheless, the dizziness remained. 

And then there was Bailar - Freestyle’s brother. Blue squealed in excitement as he watched his own counterpart, leaning over the back of the wooden bench. The brothers moved in perfect harmony. It was the Dance-way, a thing unique for that kind of universe, yet quiet jealousy flashed through him as he watched. It didn’t matter how well he got know someone; he’d never be that in sync. It was simply impossible if you weren’t Danceverse. 

Half of Snowdin had gathered to watch the brothers dance, and not only that. By his side, Edge sat, an arm thrown over the backrest. He looked incredibly handsome in his red turtleneck with a leather jacket thrown over. And he was watching Freestyle appreciatively, his ruby red eyelights burning. 

Anxiety coiled in Stretch’s stomach as he regarded his boyfriend from the corner of his eye, and how Edge leaned forward as Freestyle grinned, his movements slower, more elegant, less hip-hop-y now. The corner of Edge’s mouth tugged upwards, and Stretch’s stomach dropped yet another bit. Oh Angel, what if-  _No_. Edge loved him, and the fact that a more athletic him had shown up, one that could actually keep up with Edge but otherwise was basically identical wouldn’t change tha- 

Abruptly, he stood up. Edge and Blue both cast him concerned gazes, but he shook his head. His hands trembled as he reached into his hoodie pocket, fumbling with a package of cigarettes. “I need some air.”

Edge opened his mouth, but before he could, he teleported. Reappering inside Snowdin forest, he put a cigarette into his mouth. The lighter trembled as he lit it, before deeply inhaling. The smoke filled his throat, and his shoulders sank as he leaned against a tree. The rough bark dug into his back, grounding him. Sure, pain wasn’t his thing, but something just a bit of it could be useful with clearing his head. He exhaled deeply. Watched the smoke rise toward the cavern ceiling.

“Heya, buddy.” The familiar voice -  _his_ voice - made him flinch, and he fumbled with the cigarette as he almost dropped it. Glancing up, he found Freestyle leaning against the next tree, his black vest unbuttoned over his orange dress shirt. He even  _dressed_  better than him, of  _course_  Edge would like him more. Freestyle grinned at him, nodding toward the cigarette in his hand. “Got one for me?”

“Oh. Sure,” Stretch replied, ignoring the urge to escape. He fished up yet another one, handing it to the other, and Freestyle took it with a thanks. “What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back in Snowdin?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Stretch flinched again, but Freestyle didn’t seem to care. His grin softened. “Hey, pal. You don’t need to worry about your boyfriend, ‘lright? I’ve seen how he looks at ya.” He chuckled. “And anyway, I didn’t come here to steal any boyfriends. I’ve got my own.”

He fished up his phone, showing off his homescreen. Stretch couldn’t help but gape. That was  _Razz_ , but in colourful leggings and a black top with a pink vest over. Freestyle smirked at his stupefied expression. “Vogue,” he said. “From Danceswapfell. He’s an asshole and I love him.”

A surprised laugh escaped Stretch. “I can relate to that.” He paused. “And- thanks. I know I’m being stupid, it’s just-”

“I know. I’m you. All the exercise do help but I’m still a wreck.”

“ _There you are_.” The sudden call made them both twist around, and Stretch’s cheeks flushed as Edge stalked up to them before embracing him tightly. Wheezing for air, Stretch held the other as well as he could while his arms were being squashed, burying his face in Edge’s collarbone. Then Edge let him go, looking him over. “Don’t just  _disappear_  like that, ashtray. Both me and your brother got worried.”

Freestyle chuckled. “I’ll leave you alone.” Then he was gone. 

Edge hardly glanced his way before he took Stretch’s face between his hands, studying him closely. Feeling his cheeks heat up, Stretch smiled faintly. “Everything’s alright, precious. I was just being dumb.”

“If it bothers you, it’s clearly not dumb.” Edge kissed his nose, and Stretch’s soul fluttered. Their eyes met, and concern shone in Edge’s. “Hey, love, talk to me.”

Sighing, Stretch leaned into him. Letting out a surprised hum, the other held him upright, steady. As always. Stars, he’d really been an idiot to doubt Edge, hadn’t he? He smiled. “Nah. It’s really nothing. Everything’s better now when you’re here.”

Despite how his face scrunched up in confusion, Edge nodded. He whisked Stretch up in a bridal carry, making him yelp, before kissing his forehead. “Well, alright then. Do you want to stay here, or go back?”

After a moment of hesitance: “Stay.”

With a nod, Edge sat down in the snow, still holding Stretch to his chest. The position would’ve been awkward, since Stretch was taller, but somehow it worked. It always did. Stretch sighed happily, breathing in his boyfriend’s scent. His soul settled. He glanced up at Edge, whose face still showed worry, and smiled. “Hey. I love you.”

A smile. It wasn’t big, but oh so honest and trusting and  _open. “_ I love you too. So much.”


	3. The Fat Druid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentence prompt: "im going to kill my brother! drinks are on me!" with spicyhoney
> 
> Historical AU, because I love historical AUs

The music was audible a bit down the path, and it only grew louder the closer he came. The Fat Druid Inn lied at the edge of town, a tall brown building surrounded by a small garden and a forest of wild apple trees, leafless for the season. The path was gravel, and Stretch’s horse insisted on walking at the very edge of it to avoid the hard ground, even though one wrong step would have them crashing into the ditch. Stretch couldn’t really find it in him to deny her the small pleasure of grass beneath her hooves, no matter what his brother or the stablemaster would say about it.  _You’ve got to teach her who’s in charge_. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“You already know that, don’t you,” he murmured, stroking Pan’s neck. Her thick winter fur was soft between his fingers. The brown mare jerked her head, snorting in response. Vapor stood like a cloud around her head as she breathed. The inn soon towered above them, and a couple horses were already tied up outside. Among them was a grey stallion who was calmly drinking the water put out for them and Stretch nodded to himself as he saw it. Good. If he was there, then so would Edge, seeing how it was his horse. He quickly tied Pan up before stepping up to the door.

It squeaked as he slid it open, and warmth washed over him. So did the sound of the troubadour’s jolly playing and the talking and laughter of the people. He took off his black cape, hanging it by the door, revealing his black and orange suit. Stretch couldn’t help but grin as he went deeper inside, and multiple shouts greeted him. He raised a hand at some of his friends from the village and eyed the newcomers curiously. It wasn’t too common with new people around here, especially not adventurers, but judging by the looks of the people playing dice, he was going to say they were absolutely adventurers. He’d have to talk to them later.

But right now, he had a mission.

“Hiya, darling,” a sing-song voice came from behind, and he turned around. His grin widened as he found Twist there, holding a tray of beer mugs. The other was dressed in the usual brown trousers and vest of the commoners, but the way his white shirt was half-unbuttoned was positively shameless. Stretch had long since stopped being bothered, though. “What gives us th’ honour o’ havin’ th’ brother o’ our beloved lord at our fine establishment?”

Rolling his eyes, Stretch swept one of the beers of his plate, taking a swing. “Ha ha, Twist. Are you going to say that every time I come here? Probably, you’ve been doing it for three years. Have you seen Edge?”

“Yer knight in shining armour’s over at th’ bar, sweetheart.” He winked. “He’s lookin’ a bit pent up. Perhaps ya should bring him home to yer fancy castle an’ make him relax fer once.”

Stretch grinned, saluting jokingly as he turned his back to Twist. Over his shoulder, he called. “Thanks! I might just do exactly that.”

He received a raised mug before Twist put it down in front of one of the guests. Looking forward again, he navigated the crowd until he reached the bar. And indeed, in front of it, a glass of what probably was whisky in hand, sat Edge. As always was he dressed in his city guard uniform in its red and dark blue glory, and he sat leaning against the desk. Stretch’s soul flipped as he saw him. It had been three weeks since he’d last seen his lover.

At the thought, he frowned. Straightening his back, he marched over to the bar and took the chair in front of Edge without a word. He crossed his arms, glaring at the other. Edge startled, eyes growing wide as he saw Stretch. Then he smiled faintly, hesitantly. “Good afternoon, lo- my lord.”

“Cut the crap,” Stretch said. He ignored the sting of pain in his soul as the other called him by title. Edge startled at his angry tone. “Why have you been ignoring me?”

Edge sighed, the smile dropping of his face. “Stre-”

“Don’t you  _Stretch_  me, give me the goddamn truth.” He hesitated for a moment, considering. Well, if Edge was going to be formal, then he might as well be too. “That’s an  _order_ , Captain.”

Annoyance lit up Edge’s face for a moment, but it disappeared just as quickly. Discomfort and sorrow played on his face as he put down his glass on the counter with a  _thump_ , meeting Stretch’s gaze. “It’s on your brother’s orders, dearest. He doesn’t consider a city guard a fitting match for a noble.”

Stretch gaped. What the  _fuck_ did Blue think he was doing? Rage burned in his soul as he grabbed Edge by the collar, pulling him down into a kiss. Edge yelped in surprise but soon his hesitance disappeared, and he grabbed Stretch back, slipping his tongue into Stretch’s mouth. Stretch’s soul rushed as he clung onto his lover, receiving his first kiss in  _three weeks_.

When they parted, a wolf-whistle rang out from the back of the bar. Stretch didn’t need to look to know it was Twist, and apparently neither did Edge as he lifted his hand and flipped him off without taking his eyes of Stretch.

Still, the anger at Blue’s actions hadn’t disappeared. He stood up in his chair, whistling loudly. The inn quieted down and suddenly everyone’s eyes were on him. “Attention, everyone!” he said, clapping his hands together. “I’m going to kill my brother! Drinks are on me!”

Cheering rose through the inn as he sat down once again, and the innkeeper, Grillby, gave him an amused gaze from behind the counter. Edge watched him with a mix of concern and adoration in his eyes. Stretch rolled his eyelights. “I’m not  _actually_  going to kill him, precious. I don’t wish to get beheaded for noble fratricide, you know. Then I couldn’t see you anymore.”

Snorting, Edge smiled. It was small, but bright and honest. He pulled Stretch’s chair closer, the legs scraping loudly against the floor, and embraced him, pulling him into his side. “God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured into Stretch’s neck, his voice gentle. Love burned in his eyes. “These past weeks have been  _Hell_.”

“I know.” Stretch intertwined their fingers, his soul finally calming. He felt warm and safe, finally at Edge’s side again. “I love you too.”


	4. The Hanging Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of mutilated body, mentions of execution (both of unnamed, unimportant character). Angst.

The wind travelled through the valley, whisking up dead leaves and tearing at bare branches where it went. The body hanging from the tree swung slowly, and the rope around his throat creaked. A shiver travelled up Rus’ spine as he pulled his cloak tighter around himself, pressing his back against the rough bark of the tree. It dug into his bones. Black clouds rolled over the sky above, not allowing a single beam of moonlight to slip through, and dark shadows filled the valley, making it impossible to see farther than a few meters.

As he breathed in the chilly air, his eyes flickered over the area, searching for any sign of movement. A twig broke, somewhere in the distance, and he twitched, twisting around its way. His breathing shallowed as he studied the area. Nothing. Probably just a rabbit, he told himself as he pressed himself even closer to the tree.  _Make yourself part of the tree_ , Edge had told him.  _Don’t get caught_. A terrified laugh nearly escaped him at the memory, and he pressed a hand over his mouth to keep it from slipping out. Yeah, he knew. If someone saw him, that’d be the end of him.

Crows cawed above him, gathering on the branches of the tree, and on the body. A murderer. His body had been torn into pieces by the crows, and the mere memory of his face made nausea rise in him. Scavengers. He gasped as one of them flapped by his face, so close he could feel the draft from its dark wings. Their eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and his soul pounded faster.

Swallowing, he allowed himself to close his eyes for just a moment and relax back against the trunk. He attempted to pretend he was back in his cottage, with the warm fire and the quilts Blue had made when they were children, but the ruthless wind tore at his cloak, tearing the image of warmth and safety from him. One of his hand travelled up to the pendant around his neck. It was a moonstone, and the chain was solid silver. A gift, obviously. Nothing a simple farmer could afford in a single lifetime.

Clenching the pendant in his hand, he exhaled, slowly. His soul slowed somewhat, and he could feel warmth return to his body, like magic. The smallest smile played on his face before the weight of a warm hand suddenly appeared on his shoulder, and he yelped, twisting around, his soul in his throat. Another hand caught the arm he threw up in surprise.

Edge pulled down the hood of his black cloak from his face with his other hand, staring at him with disapproval. “Rus, be more careful. It was a child’s play to sneak upon you.”

Sinking into the other’s arms, Rus’ breath hitched as the adrenaline rushed out of his body. Warm arms embraced him, holding him tight against Edge’s chest. Some of the tension drained out of him, and he closed his eyes as he breathed in Edge’s scent. It was such a weird combination, of pine and fancy perfumes and horse and soap, and it was unique for him.

“Rus, love,” Edge began, but Rus straightened to lean down and kiss him, and Edge reciprocated softly. A lump formed in Rus’ throat as he watched the other through half-lidded eyes. So beautiful. After a few seconds, Edge gently escapes his grasp, catching his hands between his. “We have no time.”

_A gentle kiss, pressed against his cheek. Rus’ soul rushed as Edge leaned backwards, and the royal spymaster smiled at him. What just happened? “I’m sorry,” Edge breathed, catching one of Rus’ hands in his own. “I understand if you’re not interested, I won’t hold it against you, I swear.”_

_The royal spymaster, His Majesty’s most trusted, had admitted he loved him. He blinked, and a smile blossomed on his face as he squeezed Edge’s hand back. Without a moment of hesitation, he leaned forward and pressed their teeth together. Edge made a muffled noise of surprise, but soon, his hands pressed against the back of his head, pressing him closer, and Rus smiled into the kiss_.

“I know,” he whispered. Edge released one of his hand, but leaves the other intertwined with his fingers, pressing it against his chest. He can faintly feel Edge’s soul pulse through his ribcage, and the layers of fine clothing. Edge was clothed entirely in dark colours, and almost impossible to make out among the rolling shadows. A perfect spy.

Edge’s gaze travelled over his face, his soft, ruby red eyelights mournful as he took in every detail of Rus’ face. Rus did the same with him, from the edges of his smile to the scars running over his eye socket. Then Edge’s eyes fell on the pendant. “Keep it close, no matter what,” he murmured, red tears welling up in his eyes. “Promise me.”

_“Here, for you.” Rus stared at his lover, wide-eyed, before his gaze travelled over to the pendant hanging from his hand, gleaming in the sunshine outside of his cottage. A stone that shimmered in pastels, enclosed in silver. His breath hitched in his throat as he turned back to Edge’s face._

_“Are you insane? Why would you-” he cut himself off, unsure how to say it. Why would you give something so precious to someone like_ me _?_

 _“Because you’re worth a thousand times more.” Edge’s voice was soft as he held it up, looking at him with a question written on his face._ May I?  _Heat rushed into Rus’ cheeks as he nodded mutely, and Edge lifted the chain around his head until the pendant rested safely over his chest. He smiled as he leaned down to kiss Rus. “Perfect,” he breathed just before their teeth met. “You’re so perfect.”_

“I promise.” They were sobs rather than real words, but Edge nodded, obviously relieved. “Come with me.” His voice was strangled, but he stared at Edge as tears gathered in his sockets, turning his view blurry.

Edge shook his head, squeezing Stretch’s hand so tight it hurt, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t want the other to let go. “I can’t.”  _I’m sorry_.

“I know. It’s okay.” It wasn’t. It really, really wasn’t, but Rus knew why the other had to stay.

_“Rus Serif, you are arrested for housing rebels.”_

_Fear flashed through Rus as he stared at the red-haired guard captain while she gestured for her soldiers to search his home, and as another grasped his arms, chaining them behind his back. He hissed in pain as they kicked him, so his knees buckled, and he hit the gravel of the road._

_“Nothing,” a guard yelled from inside his cottage. “Only some letters. They’ve already left.” At least Blue got away._

_The captain swore, but Rus only had eyes for the skeleton clad in a dark cloak, sitting on a horse black as coal behind her, staring down at him in helpless sorrow_.

Leaving wouldn’t only mean betraying his king more than he already had by helping him escape, but also leaving his entire life behind: his brother, his friends, everything. And he would have, Rus knew. Edge would’ve been willing to do that, hadn’t the nation been in war. Rebels against the monarchy. Chaos. Hadn’t Edge fully believed that the Resistance stood no chance, and that he  _needed_  to stay. Rus smiled shakily at him and kissed him again.

_The dungeon was dark. Water dripped from the ceiling, and a rat rushed over his feet, hurrying toward the pieces of bread strewn over the floor after he ate. Rus shivered violently, his teeth clattering against each other, and he hugged himself in a desperate search for warmth. Everything was so quiet. Even the guards had left._

_But suddenly footsteps echoed through the tunnels, and he looked up as a familiar shape appeared before the iron bars. A key clinked inside a lock, and the door slid open. Edge threw him a spy cloak without looking at him. “Get to the hanging tree, and I’ll meet you there at midnight tomorrow. Don’t be late.”_

_Before Rus could say a word, he disappeared into the shadows once more._

“You have to go.” Even as Edge spoke, he pressed him against his chest again, nuzzling his shoulder. Rus hid his face in his cloak as his body shook with sobs. Even the sound of the crows disappeared as Edge held him tight without letting go, and Rus clung to him like a lifeline, grasping onto his clothing without caring if he destroyed the fine silks.

“I know,” he whispered again, without moving.

But in the end, as a rain drop hit the top of his head, they had no other choice but to part. Rus’ body still tingled with warmth from the other’s touch as he stared at the other, and Edge met his gaze, eating him up. “There is a horse waiting for you at The Hungry Robin. Its owners are trustworthy. Go to Elynora, the city west of the capital, and find the goldsmith. She’ll help you from there. Stay safe.”

Nodding, Rus raised an arm to wipe away the tears dripping down his cheek, leaving trails of salt behind. Averting his eyes, he made a move to turn and leave, but Edge seized his wrist. Before he could do more than open his mouth to ask why, he was pulled against the other’s chest again, and Edge pressed their teeth together in a desperate kiss. Rus threw his arms around his shoulders, clinging onto him as Edge’s tongue explored his mouth for the last time. More tears escaped him, and as they eventually parted, their hands lingering, he saw that also Edge was crying.

“Go. Now,” Edge ordered. His voice shook as he pointed to the north, the direction of the tavern he’d mentioned. Rus knew where it was. Then, quieter: “I love you.”

A mix of a laugh and a sob escaped Rus. What a cruel time to say it for the first time. “I love you too,” he replied as he turned around, pulling his hood over his head. His voice was steady.

When he looked back, Edge was gone.


	5. Snow

Stretch woke up from the shrill ringing of the alarm. Blinking blearily, it took him a few moments to hear the shuffling in the kitchen. The sun washed in through the window into his small bedroom, which was one of three rooms in his first very own apartment. He’d started hiring it when he’d gotten his first salary from his job at the construction firm, deciding that perhaps it was time for him and his brother to live apart for the first time in their lives. It probably wasn’t entirely healthy to be nearing your thirties and never having lived without your brother, which Blue was.

Nonetheless they didn’t live far away from each other, and Blue had a habit of randomly coming over and checking in on him, worried about him and his abilities to live alone. He would’ve been offended, hadn’t it been somewhat justified. As much as he liked his little apartment, which had a great view over the city park and children’s playground, sometimes he just couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed and care for neither it nor himself. He was much better these days, but there were still relapses, days where everything seemed grey and any effort worthless.

So when he heard the shuffling, he assumed it was his brother. Probably cooking and cleaning, wanting to make sure Stretch ate and his living space was decent. But as the clock’s ringing continued, and he fumbled to turn it off, an arm over his eyes, footsteps came from outside the bedroom. The steps were much too long to belong to Blue. In fact, he knew those steps.

He managed to open his eyes, throwing the alarm a sour glare as he finally turned it off. Dammit, it was Sunday. He’d forgotten to turn it off yesterday. Swearing quietly to himself, he heaved himself up on his elbows, yawning loudly as he  _stretched_  his back. A snort escaped him, and he shook his head at himself. Damn, Blue’s terrible puns had rubbed off on him. As a Papyrus, he was expected to have a better sense of humour than that. For some reason. All of them knew by now his certainly wasn’t good. It just wasn’t the one of a five-year-old, like Sans’ and Blue’s.

A head stuck in through the doorframe and then an entire body followed. His eyes widened in surprise upon seeing the unbridled delight on his boyfriend’s face. It made him smile as well, of course, even as he regarded Edge with curiosity. “What’s the occasion?”

Edge looked as handsome as ever. In black jeans and a black shirt, he was frankly enchantingly good-looking. And wasn’t it just unfair that he could look so good in nothing but the most basic clothing? But he did. Smiling brightly, Edge came up to him and sank down on the bed, kissing his forehead gently. Then he scooped him up without warning. Stretch yelped, throwing his arms around Edge’s neck for balance as he was carried over to the window. Edge paid no mind to his bare bones.

His eyes widened as he looked outside. The trees and the street were covered by a thick layer of glittering white snow. Down on the playground, a couple kids were running around, dressed in thick overalls and gloves and hats, as their parents watched, vapor rising from all their mouths. He lifted a hand to the window and a shiver went up his arm as they made contact with the ice-cold glass.

“See,” Edge said, excitement rising in his voice. “We’re exactly one week away from the First of Advent and there’s already snow! And the meteorologists believe it’ll stay all winter, since this will be an exceptionally cold one!”

Stretch immediately perked up, a similar sense of euphoria rushing through him as he pressed his entire hand against the window. A hand-shaped hole appeared in the condensation on the glass. “That’s fantastic, precious,” he exclaimed, wiggling to be let down. When Edge obeyed with an amused huff, he immediately hurried over to the wardrobe, pulling on a pair of cargo pants and one of his many hoodies. A black one with a set of red roses. His grin widened as he pulled it over his head, twisting around to face his boyfriend and spreading his arms out.

Edge chuckled. “I wondered where that went.” With a few quick steps, he was in front of Stretch, pressing him up against the wall. Despite the stuffiness, Stretch did not mind in the least as his arms were grabbed and shoved up against the wall and a mouth pressed against his. He eagerly kissed back, letting Edge slip his tongue into his mouth. When they parted, Edge grinned smugly. “Stealing my only hoodie, are you? Despite you and Sans trying to convince me for months to get one before simply forcing it into my hands?”

“Well, what can I say.” Stretch suddenly jerked forward. Taken back, Edge didn’t have time to stop him before he could press a quick kiss to his brow. “You were right. I do look better in hoodies than you do.”

“Told you, love,” Edge murmured into his ear. “And I quite like seeing my clothes on you. Even if it’s a hoodie I only wore twice.”

“Snow,” Stretch reminded him, fighting the blush on his cheeks. He didn’t manage very well. But the orange reflecting on Edge’s bones more than made up for his brief embarrassment. “Almost Christmas.”

The seductiveness disappeared from Edge’s expression with the blink of an eye. “Oh, right!” He kissed Stretch once more before grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the entrance. “We’re having breakfast out today, if you’re not busy?”

Like he ever was on Sundays, but it was nice of him to ask. “Nah, breakfast sounds great. You know I don’t do anything on Sundays. Say, you’re adorable like this, but why so excited?”

Edge actually  _blushed_. Ruby-red lit up his cheeks, mirroring the gorgeous colour of his eyelights as he averted his eyes. He pulled on his shoes, high black boots, and gestured for Stretch to get dressed. “At home, we always had snow around Gyftmas, obviously. But the past three years here on the Surface, albeit lovely, has had terribly grey and boring winters. But now- it feels  _right_. Does that make sense?”

Having finished stepping into his own boots, Stretch nodded and took his hand. He squeezed. “Completely. By Toriel, I know I’ve missed the white winters too. The Surface is the second greatest thing to ever happen to me, but at least Snowdin had nice weather.”

“Second?”

“Yeah, second.” Stretch smiled, intertwining their fingers as he took down his heavy winter coat. It wasn’t actually necessary, being a skeleton let him dress however he wanted, but he enjoyed its heaviness. It felt cosy and safe. “You’re number one.”

When he turned back to look at Edge, he froze. The other was stone-faced as he regarded him. His soul dropped, anxiety coiling in his stomach. Did he say something wrong? “Edge?”

“I’m afraid I must arrest you,” Edge said, completely humourlessly. Stretch blinked. “I am ninety-nine percent certain it cannot be legal to so completely steal the soul of an ambassador of monsterkind.”

It took a few moments for him to process what Edge had just said, but then the penny dropped. He laughed, shoving Edge into the wall. He still didn’t let go off his hand, though. “You  _scared_  me, you  _asshole_.”

Chuckling, Edge brushed his free hand over Stretch’s cheek. “My apologies, dearest. But you needn’t worry. I adore you more than anything and I would give up the Surface to be with you in a soulbeat.”

“Yeah, yeah.” They finally had to let go off each other so they could pull on their jackets. And damn, somehow his dark grey coat, contrasted by his usual blood-red scarf, just made Edge even  _more_  handsome. As he zipped up his jacket, he couldn’t help but smile. That smile only grew as Edge grasped his hand again and led him outside. The chilly air hit them as soon as they stepped outside, and the snow creaked beneath their shoes. The laughter of children reached them all the way over here. He leaned into his boyfriend’s side as they began the short walk down to the local café. “I love you too.”

“Good,” Edge replied softly, freeing his hand so he could put it over his shoulders instead. Warmth radiated off him even through the thick clothing. “Because you’re the light of my life.”

“That’s sappy.” Nonetheless, his soul made a flip in his chest as he looked into the other’s eyes. His eyelights were fuzzy and soft, love shining in them.

Huffing from supressed laughter, Edge nodded. “What can I say? You pull out the teenage poet from me.”

Stretch stopped dead. “Are you saying you wrote  _poetry_  as a teenager?” The renewed blush on Edge’s cheeks gave him every answer he needed.  _Holy fuck, yes_. “You’ve  _got_  to show me.”

“Maybe later,” Edge said after a moment, slowly. A small smile tugged on his mouth, though he was obviously still embarrassed. “Or maybe not.”

“Nope, you must, it’s law. I declare it law.”

“Diplomatic immunity, remember?”

Stretch glared at him, and he held up his hands, laughing. Vapor stood like a cloud around him. “Alright,  _fine_. I promise. But it’s awful.”

“If it was anything else, I’d be disappointed.” He bopped Edge’s nose before bowing down to kiss it. “Thank you, love.”

Edge’s smile softened. “Anything for you.  _Even_  terrible childhood poetry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stretch I think you're forgetting that's _Fellverse_ shitty teenage poetry. It's not the tame stuff you're expecting


	6. Rose Petals

It was dark outside, and the lights were off. The only thing illuminating the room were the candles spread over every open surface. Steam rose from the hot water that filled the porcelain tub and the gold-framed mirror was already covered by mist. Smiling contently as he stepped inside, the heat washing over him, Edge put down the tray he was carrying on the small table next to the tub. On it there was two crystal glasses and two bottles. A dark one filled with sparkling red wine and a translucent one with honey mead. He and Stretch had very different taste, but that was quite alright.

He stuck the bottles into a wine cooler standing just by the table before leaving the bathroom again. Out in the living room, his boyfriend laid draped over the pale golden couch, pretending to sleep. He, very not-inconspicuously, cracked an eye socket open when Edge entered, and the corners of Edge’s mouth twitched upwards. Without a word, he knelt down by the couch and swept the other into his eyes. Stretch yelped, his eyes flying open. Edge only grinned at him.

“What are you doing?”

Leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead, he smiled. “Romancing you.”

The trek to the bathroom was short, so Stretch didn’t have a chance to reply before he stepped into it. Stretch’s words died on his tongue as he saw what he’d done to the place. After a short moment of staring, he caught Edge’s gaze, staring at him in disbelief. “You put rose petals in the  _bath_?!” When Edge nodded, he snorted. “That’s cliché, precious. But-” He heaved himself up so he could press a kiss to Edge’s cheek. “-I can’t say I don’t like it.”

They made a quick job of their clothing. Stretch’s hoodie and cargo pants were always easy enough to get off, and Edge had taken special care to only wear jeans and a tank top today. It was his day off anyway, so he wasn’t about to dress up in a suit. If he did, he would never be able to keep himself from working. As it was, what he couldn’t help to do was watching Stretch move with that lazy elegance that was so  _him_.

When he noticed his gaze, Stretch stroke a pose. The candleflames flickered, casting an orange shine over his perfect white bones. “Like what you see?” he asked, grinning widely.

“Very much.” Despite their years together, Stretch’s cheeks tinted faintly orange at his quick and honest reply. Unable to resist him, Edge marched up to him and grabbed his jaw so he could pull him down into a kiss. When he wasn’t wearing his heels, which he rarely did anymore, Stretch had about a decimetre on him. Stretch hummed happily into the kiss, leaning into him.

Then, without warning, Edge lifted him up again and lowered him into the hot water. Stretch rolled his eyes at being manhandled but sighed in pleasure. Edge wasn’t late to climb in after him, holding out his arm to offer it as a headrest. After a few seconds of pretending to pout, Stretch shuffled into his side, leaning against him. Warmth blossomed in his chest, another kind of warmth than the one the water caused, as he looked at the other skeleton. His eyes were so full of trust and love. He still couldn’t understand what he’d done to earn it, but he wasn’t going to question it when the multiverse finally showed kindness.

Running his fingers over Stretch’s arm, he kissed the top of his head. “I love you,” he murmured, smiling.

Stretch smiled up at him. “I love you too, edgelord.” Then his grin turned mischievous. Edge spluttered as hot water suddenly was thrown in his face. One of the petals stuck to his forehead.


	7. Time to Sleep

Rus heaved himself up on his elbow as he watched his fiancé rush over the room. Outside the window, the world was dark, and the crescent moon shone high on the sky. According to the clock, it was two AM. Yet here they were. With Edge muttering into his work phone as he riffled through pages of his enormous binders. This was ridiculous. Yawning, he grabbed one of the pillows and raised it into the air before throwing it at the other. Edge twisted around, staring at him in bewilderment.

“It’s two in the fucking night, precious, put away your phone and come to bed,” Stretch said dryly, only just resisting the urge to roll his eyes as Edge shook his head.

He lifted the phone from his ear for a moment to tell him, “I’m fine, I’m not tired.”

Stretch pouted, holding out his arms. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and he wasn’t about to let the other work through the night again. He was certain the Embassy wouldn’t blow up because one of their diplomats went to bed. “But  _I’m_  tired and I’ll be very lonely here without you. Not sure I can sleep, actually. Come lay down so I can curl up in your arms, love.”

A faint blush lit up Edge’s face, and he began saying something before he stopped again. He mumbled something into the phone before  _finally_  hanging up and putting it aside to be charged. Staring down at Stretch, he sat stepped closer to the bed. “Are you trying to seduce me into going to sleep?”

“Yep,” Stretch admitted unabashedly, plopping on the ‘P’. He grinned crookedly. “Is it working?”

For a moment, Edge didn’t do anything. Then he sighed loudly and pulled his shirt over his head. Stretch grinned triumphantly. As soon as Edge was in his fancy silk pyjamas trousers, he slid beneath the covers, gathering Stretch into his arms. “Yes,” he muttered into Stretch’s skull. Stretch could hear the smile in his voice.

Placing a hand over his fiancé’s sternum, he smiled and moved Edge’s hand to his mouth so he could kiss it. “Good. Now sleep. And don’t do this again, you’re making  _me_  be the responsible one. That’s illegal.”

Edge’s throaty chuckles filled his mind as he closed his eyes, immediately slipping out of consciousness.


	8. LV-Issues

Edge trembled as he leaned over his desk. His LV coiled within him, flaring up constantly, making him clench his fountain pen to resist the urge to  _hurt_ , to  _kill_. Every moment he didn’t go outside to search for some unsuspecting prey was a fight.  _Snap_. The pen broke in half. Ink splashed over his hand. With a growl, he threw it into the wall, grabbing another which he pressed against the paperwork in front of him hard enough for it to pierce the paper. The words floated together, muddled, blurry.

He gritted his teeth, taking a deep breath. His entire body itched with need for blood, but he couldn’t give in. He  _couldn’t_  let it control him, become the beast many thought him to be. He couldn’t.

 _…by declare that Miss Muffet… Joshua… Temmie Village has the right to…_ The texts floated together, becoming one. Fuck, he couldn’t  _focus_. With a growl, he swept the paperwork off his desk. The pens clattered as they fell to the floor.

“Woah,” came a sudden voice from behind, and Edge was up from his chair and had twisted around before the word was finished. Stretch stared at him in bewilderment, eyes flickering between him and the paperwork now on the floor. “You okay, precious?”

“No,” Edge said, digging the tips of his claws into his palms. “You need to leave.”

All of Stretch  _screamed_  Free EXP. Everything from the way he moved to the way he looked at Edge, without an ounce of fear. He raised an eyebrow before taking a few steps up to Edge. It was a fight to resist the urge to recoil away from him, from his idiotic trust. Stretch took his hands in his, rubbing his thumbs soothingly over the backs of Edge’s. “No way. LV-issues?” Edge managed to nod. “Hey, love. You know I can help. I’m willing. Yes.”

Edge only hesitated for a brief moment before growling. He reached out to grab Stretch’s face and pressed their teeth together roughly. Stretch allowed him to dominate his mouth, trust radiating of him as Edge swept him into his arms.

* * *

His soul beat calmly, contently, as Edge held Stretch against his chest. Stretch gazed up at him, a soft, pleased smile on his face and eyes shimmering. For a moment, Edge forgot how to breathe. “By the stars,” he said, stroking Stretch’s naked back. “You’re too good for me.”

“Lies,” Stretch murmured, clinging to his ribs. Pleasure buzzed through Edge’s entire body as he looked down on the other. “You’re perfect. I love you.”

“I love you too. How did I get this lucky?” he asked out loud, more to himself than to anyone else. The restless LV was nowhere to be seen, and Stretch’s eyes were still so full of trust. No one ever looked at him like that. Even Undyne and Red would be wary of him when his LV was acting up, just like he knew not to trust them when the same happened to them. They all knew they might have to hurt one another one day.

But not Stretch. Never Stretch.

He trusted him wholeheartedly. He didn’t deserve him. But, he thought as Stretch took his face between his hands and kissed him softly in that way he had never known one  _could_  kiss before he met Stretch, he had had him, and he would do anything to keep him. He returned it, smiling into it before they parted and he nuzzled into Stretch’s shoulder. “I love you,” he repeated. “Thank you.” For being here. For being you.

“You’re welcome,” Stretch replied, sounding a little befuddled but he didn’t ask. “I love you too.” Then his grin turned wicked, and he licked a stripe up Edge’s ribs. Edge shuddered. “Round two?”


	9. Love You Most

The last sunlight of the evening shimmered on the river, painting the sky in the most magnificent colours. Pink, purple, dark blue. Watching the water of the Seine move gently, Edge pulled his boyfriend closer into his side, breathing into his collarbone. Stretch’s fingers drew circles over their intertwined hands, light as a breeze. The Eiffel tower rose above the horizon on their side, magnificent in the faint light.

Smiling, he pressed a kiss to the other’s head, and Stretch made a sound almost like a purr. Their week had been long. They’d been in countless affairs and coffee shops, in the Louvre, Château Versailles, Notre Dame, Montmartre, and almost every other sight in Paris. The memory of Stretch’s awed expression as they’d reached the top of the Eiffel tower was still fresh in his mind, and the corner of his mouth tugged upwards yet a bit as he thought of it. Tomorrow they’d go back home to Ebott City. But for now, they were here, on a parch bench by the Seine and the tower they’d descended only a few hours earlier.

A gentle breeze made the trees rustle, and he squeezed Stretch’s hand tighter. Breathed in the other’s scent as he felt the other’s weight on him. On the other side of the river, a human lady was walking a dalmatian. It sniffed in the air before turning toward them and barking, but at his owner’s command – “ _Silencieux_ ” – it fell quiet again, obediently following her. Edge rolled his eyes. He’d never liked non-monster dogs. It truly was a shame both Blue and Razz insisted on keeping theirs around.

“Hey, edgelord.” Stretch’s voice was as soft as a whisper, but he immediately turned toward him, looking down on his partner who leaned against his chest. Stretch was actually the taller one, but somehow, it fell itself more natural for Edge to hold him rather than the other way around. Probably because of his natural protective instincts, which immediately rose to the roof when Stretch was around – and beyond the stars when he wasn’t. He nodded to show he was listening. “I love you.”

Warmth blossomed in Edge’s soul. By Asgore, what had he done to deserve this? “I love you more.”

“ _I love you most_.” The reply was hurried, and as soon as he got it out, Stretch grinned triumphantly. “ _Ha!_  I win.”

“Love you mostest.”

Stretch gasped, sitting straight. His eyes were wide in disbelief as he stared at him, and Edge raised an eyebrow. “You  _butchered grammar_. Who  _are you? What did you do to my boyfriend._ ”

Edge couldn’t help but laugh as he took Stretch’s face between his hands, pulling him down for a kiss. When they parted, he pecked the other’s forehead. “The person who loves you more than you can imagine,” he murmured into Stretch’s ear. “Stars you’re perfect.”

“Cheater,” Stretch muttered, even as he couldn’t help but smile. After a few seconds, he sank back into Edge’s embrace, just in time to see the sun disappear beyond the horizon.

  * 



	10. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well. Warning for nightmares, as the title says

The darkness was heavy as Stretch woke up, disoriented. For a moment, it felt like he couldn’t breathe, the air thick in his throat, and he blinked to get used to the dark in their bedroom. It was quiet. Too quiet. The only sound, except the wind whining outside the window, was short, sharp breaths. So quiet they were near inaudible.

As he let magic flicker from his eyelight, he turned around in the bed, finally able to see. His breath hitched as he saw Edge. His husband’s face was pale, sweat dripping down his brow, and he was stiff as a board. Waves of _fear_ radiated off him. Not surprising he’d been so uncomfortable when he woke up, then. His eyes were squeezed shut. Stretch watched him, his soul throbbing painfully. It had been so long since Edge last had a nightmare like this. Just like him.

A short laugh caught in his throat. They were both broken, weren’t they?

Perhaps that was why they were so perfect for each other.

“Hey, love,” he murmured, aching to reach out for him. He settled for shifting closer, letting _love_ and _affection_ and _safety_ radiate off him. “Hey. We’re alright. You’re alright. Red is safe. You’re safe. We’re on the Surface, everything is fine. We’re married. You volunteer at the youth centre and have basically adopted all those kids with bad parents. They adore you. _I_ adore you so much. I love you, edgelord, so much. You’re at home, on the Surface, and Red is at home too, probably staying up late reading science magazines, the nerd.” He continued to ramble on, keeping his voice gentle and soothing.

Eventually, Edge started to twitch. He moved restlessly under the sheets. Stretch squeezed a handful of blanket as distress showed on Edge’s face, but that was a good sign. Meant he was relaxing. No longer in the kill or be killed-mindset. That he was starting to trust he was safe.

Carefully, he reached out a hand, ready to jerk it back should Edge show any signs of aggression. He kept his eyes trained on his face as he moved. Nothing. Exhaling, he put down his hand on top of Edge’s arm. He tensed, but didn’t try to grab him. “I’m here, precious,” Stretch whispered. “I’m not leaving. Not ever.”

Continuing to murmur soothing nothings, he slowly let his hand travel farther up until he could caress him. When he still got no aggression, when Edge seemed to relax just a tad, he steeled himself. Mentally, that is. Stretch was careful to keep his body relaxed and pliable. Unthreatening. He scooted up to Edge, curling up against his side, and intensified his projections. His hands travelled over the other, slow and gentle.

“Stretch?” a rough voice said, so quiet he almost couldn’t hear it.

“I’m here, love.”

The change was immediate. Edge relaxed completely, arms embracing him and pulling him close. Almost too close, it hurt just a little to be pressed so tightly between Edge’s chest and arms, but he didn’t complain. He wouldn’t. Smiling gently, he itched up so he could kiss his husband’s collarbone. “I love you.”

He didn’t ask what the nightmare was about. If Edge wanted to talk about it, he would. Even though he was dying of curiosity.

“I love you too.” Edge’s voice was tired, and there was something almost desperate to it as he clung to Stretch.

Stretch kissed him again, and then itched even higher so he could kiss his cheek too. “I’m not going anywhere, precious. I’m here, anytime you need me.”

That earned him a half-smile. Something settled in Edge’s ruby-red eyes, and he exhaled. Stretch felt his ribcage sink below him.

“I know.”


	11. Waiting

Stretch wrung his hands as he stared out over the dark street. Rain smattered against the asphalt, creating puddles that were already becoming enormous, and the wind whined. The apple trees in the gardens stood bowed from its force. It was a storm, nearly a hurricane, and an hour ago the government had warned them to stay inside unless they absolutely couldn’t.

Nearly a hurricane, and Edge was out there in his sleek sports car, because he was an overprotective idiot who wouldn’t let Stretch be home alone in weather like this. Since apparently it was preferable he went out himself in weather like this than that they both stayed safe inside, Stretch at home and Edge at the Embassy.

Sometimes, Stretch cursed Edge’s protectiveness. He loved him, but flipping heck, why was he so stubborn?

The street outside of their suburban home was completely empty. Only the street lights illuminated it, and even their light was dimmed in the heavy rain. The sound of rain against the window echoed in his head until he felt as though he was going to go mad. Instinctively, he fished up his phone from his pocket, but as his finger hovered over the unlock-button he remembered that he couldn’t call. Couldn’t distract Edge from his driving, not now.

He’d never been religious, but right now, he prayed to the Angel that his husband would come home safe. A drop of blood slid down his phalange, hitting the windowsill. Stretch winced, glancing down at the wound he’d somehow managed to reopen. A cooking wound, from when he’d insisted on helping Edge with the dinner and managed to almost add a finger to the salad. His soul ached at the thought, and his gaze went back outside. Edge had fussed over it and insisted that he’d try to heal it, despite his LV making healing near-impossible. The Angel had to bring him home safely.

Headlights lit up the street and his soul jumped up in his throat. Planting his hands on the windowsill he leaned forward until he was pressing his forehead against the ice-cold glass, trying to see what car it was. Anxiety tingled in his entire body as it pulled in on the driveway outside, mixed with hope. It looked like Edge’s car. It had to be Edge’s car. _Please_ let it be Edge.

His breath hitched as a tall figure slid out of the driver’s seat, their black coat swept around them, collar standing to keep out the wind and rain. The headlights blinked once to signal the car was locked, and the figure began making his way toward them. Stretch’s shoulders sank in relief as he tore himself from the window, rushing toward the entrance hall. As soon as the door clicked open and his husband stepped in, Rus was around his neck, kicking the door closed behind him.

He shivered as he clung onto Edge, but didn’t let go. The outside of his coat was freezing. “Oh thank the Angel,” he whispered as Edge, once he woke up from the shock, carefully put his arms around him and held him close. The scent of his husband filled Stretch’s nose – spice and leather and cologne – as he held onto the other. “You’re alright.”

“Of course I am-” Edge began to say, but once he heard the other’s rough voice, fury sparked in Stretch.

He tore himself from Edge’s grip, glaring down at him and crossing his arms. These were the times he was happy over the five centimetres he had on him. “What the _frick_ were you _thinking_ , going out in this weather? You should’ve _stayed at the Embassy,_ so I didn’t have to spend twenty minutes wondering if _a tree had fallen on your car_.”

The shock on Edge’s face was exchanged for something softer, and he reached out to grab Stretch’s hand. When he jerked it away, he smiled softly as he pulled of his coat, revealing the tailored suit he wore beneath. As always, Stretch’s soul skipped a beat at seeing him in that – he was so _handsome_ – which only deepened his frown. He was angry with him; didn’t his soul know that?

“I know, I’m sorry,” Edge murmured, reaching out again. At the sincerity in his voice, Stretch couldn’t help but allow him to take his hands and squeeze them between his own. “But I couldn’t stay. It would’ve driven me _mad_ with worry to do so. I needed to see you were okay. I’ve-” He broke off for a moment before visibly steeling himself. “I was separated from Red during a snowstorm back Underground once, and he got snowed in. The oxygen was running out when Undyne and I found him again. He _almost died_ , love.”

Pain laced his voice, and Stretch’s soul ached. He hated that his lover and Red – and Slim and Razz – had had to live through the hell that was Underfell. Hated it. Even the weather was more hostile there. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to Edge’s teeth before stepping into his arms again. They immediately embraced him, holding on tight, as though he was afraid Stretch would disappear. It often felt like Edge was scared of that whenever he revealed something new about his life Underground.

“I’m not going anywhere, precious,” he promised into Edge’s shoulder, folding back to his usual slouch. “I’m not.”

 _You don’t know that_. He could almost hear the unspoken words, but Edge didn’t utter them. Instead he led them both into the living room, pulling Stretch into the couch. He settled in his husband’s lap, leaning his head against his chest. They fit perfectly, like a slot into another. Idle fingers travelled over his back, and he breathed in, smelling Edge.

“I know,” Edge said, kissing first his head, then his cheek, then his mouth. Stretch limply allowed him to arrange him however he wanted him, eagerly kissing back. When they parted, Edge exhaled slowly. “I know.”

Slowly, he began warming up, and Stretch held onto his white shirt. Neither cared that the suit was getting creased. They sat there in silence for a few moments before the grandfather clock in the corner rang six times. Edge shifted, though he didn’t move. “Perhaps I should get started with dinner.”

“Not yet.” The words were quiet but audible. Edge only nodded, his arms holding him tighter. Stretch glanced up at him. “I love you, you know that?”

“Yes.” Now, amusement shone in Edge’s eyes. Stretch smiled. “I do know that. And I love you too.”

“Good.”

His husband’s soft chuckles were all he heard as the exhaustion of worrying took him, and his eyes slipped closed. Soon he was fast asleep in his husband’s lap, with Edge watching him fondly from above.


	12. Paris

When Stretch had pulled him with him, Edge hadn’t known what to expect, but he’d obediently followed his husband out of their rented apartment, out on the well-lit streets of Paris. The scent of French cuisine filled the air, floating through the air from the restaurants nearby, and the Seine murmured as they walked hand in hand past it, toward the closest subway. A dog barked at them as they walked past it and its owner, but the owner pulled it away, apologizing, and the night air was cold and crisp.

A couple months ago he’d been assigned to travel to the capital of France itself to speak with their government, but it meant he’d be away from Ebott for a couple weeks. So naturally, he’d demanded that his husband came with him, and so Stretch had. And Stretch loved Paris. The food, the warmth, the incredible trains that would take them from the city to the Mediterranean in three mere hours… Yes, his husband thrived, and therefore, Edge was happy as well. No matter how tired he’d sometimes be when he came home from work, hearing Stretch chatter on about the new friends he’d made or things he’d discovered in their temporary home made it worth it.

The subway was busy, despite the late hour – or because of it, since it was a Friday. Youths in fashionable clothing, an alcoholic who kept singing sea shanties of all things, an old couple who stared at the drunk. When they stepped onboards, there was a single free seat, at the end of the row, so Edge intertwined his fingers with his husband’s and pulled him into his lap in the seat, making Stretch chuckle.

People stared at them, as always – while the humans were getting used to monsters in Ebott, almost all of them stayed there, so they were still something weird and strange everywhere else. That was one of the main reasons Edge was here: to ensure monsterkind could spread out over the rest of the world one day, just like humans had.

Their stares had Edge on, well, edge, and he made sure to keep an eye on the intent in the train, but none of them seemed hostile. The familiar weight and warmth of Stretch in his lap laid like a comforting blanket around his soul, and he couldn’t help but lift Stretch’s hand to his mouth and kiss it.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Stretch eyed him with fond amusement. “I love you too, you big sap.”

They travelled multiple stations, watching people come and leave. No one bothered them. Then as the train stopped once more, Stretch bounced to his feet, grabbing his hand. When he looked up to see which station they were on, a hand slapped over his eyes, turning the world dark.

“Don’t look!”

Raising his eyebrows, he pulled Stretch’s hand off his face and nodded. He was rewarded with a beaming husband who pulled him off the train and into the station itself. Since he usually held his promises, he made an effort not to look at the signs on the walls telling him where they were. To his surprise, he was pulled into a corner, in behind a pillar.

The wall was cold against his back, even through his leatherjacket, and he grinned as he looked up at Stretch, pulling him closer.

Stretch glared as he stumbled forward, into Edge’s arms, even though he couldn’t hide his mouth quirking upwards. “Not that, asshole. Can I teleport you somewhere? It’s for the surprise.”

He looked so hopeful. As much as he hated teleporting, as he looked at that face, at the way his orange tongue poked out between his teeth and at those fucking _puppy dog-eyes_ , Edge couldn’t say no. With a sigh, he nodded, and Stretch squealed in delight.

“On count of three, precious,” he mumbled, smiling brightly. “One… Two… Three!”

And on three, the cold and pure _wrongness_ of the Void washed over his bones. His breath caught in his throat and he couldn’t _breathe_ his soul was racing and cold sweat dripped down his neck and- Fresh air. Edge stumbled, wheezing as he put his hands on his knees and leaned forward, breathing deeply as he tried to reorient himself and get rid of the nausea coiling in his stomach.

A hand rubbed his back until he could straighten his back once again, stomach finally settling.

“Close your eyes, love,” Stretch murmured, and despite his unease at not being able to see where they were, Edge obeyed. The other’s arms embraced him, carefully leading him a few steps. “Sit down.”

Carefully, he folded his legs beneath him, sitting down in the damp grass. Stretch settled by his side, and he smiled as his husband leaned into his side, putting his head on his shoulder. Still keeping his eyes closed, he let one of his hands wander over Stretch’s legs before settling on his knee.

“You can look.”

Edge opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Stretch’s beaming face. He smiled, raising a hand to stroke his face. “Beautiful.”

Orange tinted Stretch’s cheeks as he glared, grabbing Edge’s jaw and turning his head. “Not at _me_ , asshole.”

Chuckling, he turned to look forward instead. His breath caught in his throat. Paris spread out below him, the buildings small as dollhouses from this height. The lights from the buildings lit up the city, and far away, the could see the Eiffel tower shining golden in the night. He looked around, eyes widening as he realized where they were. At the very top of the dome of the Sacre Coeur basilica.

“How-?” he asked, speechless, and Stretch grinned sheepishly, rubbing his neck.

“I may have used your officiality to get the archbishop to let me bring you here. We’re going to dine with some catholic people next week.”

Edge couldn’t help but laugh and pull Stretch into his lap. “Are we? You know I’m not supposed to get involved with religion, especially not in _France_ with their strict State and Church separation-laws.”

“I know I know.” Stretch didn’t sound as though he regretted it one bit, though. “But look at this.” He swept out with his hand, gesturing toward the city beneath them. And he was right. It was beautiful.

Smiling, rolling his eyes in exasperation, Edge kissed the top of his husband’s head. “Well, it’d be a shame not to take the chance to enjoy it properly then.”

A hint of relief became visible in Stretch’s smile, as though he’d been just a little bit worried Edge would mind. But how could he, when he must’ve worked hard to get them here? His soul was warm in his chest as he shifted Stretch over so he was draped in his lap, head against Edge’s chest, just over his soul. Stretch sighed happily. Intertwining their fingers, he rested his jaw against the top of Stretch’s head as he looked out over Paris, shining bright in the dark night.

“I love you,” Stretch murmured.

Edge smiled, squeezing his hand. “I love you more.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god writing this really made me want to go visit Paris again


	13. True Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tweet I tweeted yesterday night: So I'm trying to sleep but was suddenly hit by the image of Edge telling someone, probably Stretch, "My actual name is Eledgias."
> 
> Here's a shitpost I wrote in my phone's Notes at midnight a couple minutes ago

“Edge?”

Edge looked up from his book, turning his gaze to his boyfriend who was lounging upside down on the couch, legs thrown over the backrest. He frowned at the sight. Rus eyed him tentatively.

“Yes, precious?”

Rus hesitated a moment. Paused. Twisted around until he was sitting properly, much to Edge’s relief. Then he finally looked Edge in the eyes, as though he was worried he was going to say something wrong. “Why on earth did your parents name you Edge? Not that I don’t love it, but it seems an odd thing to name a baby.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. Closing his book with a thump, he placed it on the couch table. “They didn’t. It’s a nickname.”

“Really?” Surprise was painted over Rus’ face. Understandable, Edge supposed. They’d been dating for over two years, so you’d think you’d know your partner’s name at this stage.

“Yep,” he said. “My birth name is Eledgias.”

“What?”

“Indeed.” He couldn’t keep himself from grinning at the horrified expression on Rus’ face which was quickly schooled into mere surprise once he realized what he was doing. How rude it was.

“You can’t be serious.” Rus sounded almost upset. Whether it was because of the ridiculousness of the name, or from pure shock over Edge saying his real name wasn’t Edge, Edge didn’t know. He leaned forward in his seat, staring at him in incredulity. “Your name is Eledgias?”

“That’s what I said.”

“It can’t.”

Keeping himself from laughing was a feat, but he managed, somehow. Edge regarded his boyfriend with glee glittering in his eyes as emotions and confusion flashed over Rus’ face. Rus didn’t stop staring at him, trying to figure out whether his name really could be Eledgias of all things, or if Edge was fucking with him.

Edge smirked. He wondered how long it’d take until he figured out he could simply check his driving licence to see whether he was speaking the truth or not.


	14. Chapter 14

Edge was a very busy man. Always up working at the Embassy, or at the youth center where he volunteered, or exercising or cleaning. To get him to sit down was a rare treat. Which was why Stretch treasured their late nights together, just like this. His head in Edge’s lap, fingers scratching his skull. His own hand was intertwined with Edge’s other, and neither much paid any attention to the show on the television. 

Sighing happily, Stretch watched his fiancé through half-lidded eyes. Edge’s eyes were soft, his eyelights approaching a soft pink instead of their usual bright ruby-red. He squeezed his fingers, lifting them to his mouth so he could kiss them, and Edge’s smile somehow turned even gentler. 

“Angel.” The word was a sigh, and it made Edge raise an eyebrow. Stretch smiled at him, stifling a yawn. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Edge chuckled, leaning down so he could kiss his forehead. “That’s what I ask myself every day, precious.”

His soul fluttered, and he giggled sleepily, throwing his arms around Edge’s neck and trapping him in that bowed-forward position. Edge huffed, but his smile didn’t lessen for a second. 

“Wanna know a secret?” he whispered conspiratorically.

“Oh?” Amusement shone in Edge’s eyes. “Do tell.”

His eyes flickered to the sides, checking no one else was there, before he pulled Edge down yet another bit. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” His voice was impossibly soft, and five years ago, Rus never would’ve believed that Edge could sound like that. Now, however, it was the best thing he knew. Another sleepy giggle escaped him, and he heaved himself up on an elbow.

“I know,” he murmured, pressing their teeth together. A hand cupped the back of his head, helping him keep it up as Edge kissed him back, one of the most gentle kisses in his life. “Stars, I know.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy, please leave a comment! It'd make me really happy and is what keeps me going!
> 
> If the dumpsterfire doesn't burn down within the next few weeks, you can find me at Tumblr (at Odderancyart), and bc of what's going on there I now have a Twitter - Odderancy.


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